


Unmarked

by saddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Abandoned Work - Unfinished and Discontinued, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, M/M, Not!Fic, See Author’s Notes For Further Warnings, Trope Subversion/Inversion, mention of family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-08
Updated: 2017-09-08
Packaged: 2018-12-25 10:16:26
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12033825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saddestboner/pseuds/saddestboner
Summary: Tyler had spent his entire life believing he was one of the fortunate few who didn’t get a soulmate, or the accompanying mark on his wrist.





	Unmarked

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally supposed to be a soulmate mark trope inversion/subversion thing but I lost interest in writing it. Tyler was gonna spend most of his life thinking he was soulmate-less, then he his soulmate mark was gonna come in but it was gonna be platonic (I was thinking he gets bonded to Demers) and he falls in love with someone who already has a soulmate. But I stopped caring about Seguin so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯.
> 
>  **Additional notes/warmings:** Tyler's family gets mentioned (though vaguely). Also there was going to be the implication that Tyler got traded because of his lack of a soulmate mark (but it was supposed to just be a coincidence I guess because Tyler was still... being Tyler). If any of this bothers or squicks you, don't read any further.
> 
> Find me on [tumblr](https://saddestboner.tumblr.com) and [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner).

Tyler had spent his entire life believing he was one of the fortunate few who didn’t get a soulmate, or the accompanying mark on his wrist. Sure, when most people got a good look at his unblemished skin, they took pity on him, shaking their heads and clucking like hens, but Tyler didn’t really think of himself as someone who needed their pity. He’d just never really believed the soulmate thing was worth all the trouble. He couldn’t possibly imagine being, like, fifteen years old and watching the mark appear on his wrist, knowing that someone out there was the person he was meant to spend the rest of his life with. 

It was pretty fucking scary to think about the rest of your life when you were just fifteen—or twenty-three, for that matter.

Hell, Tyler’s mom and dad had been soulmates with matching marks on their wrists, and not even the prospect of _fate_ and _destiny_ had been enough to keep them together. His parents separated when he was going to high school and playing hockey in Michigan; Mom had called him before he was set to come home for winter break his junior year and dropped the bomb. 

A few days later, Mom and Dad officially filed papers in court to have their bond severed and their soulmarks removed. After that, Tyler never saw either of his parents without a nylon wristguard secured firmly in place to cover their scars.

Anyway, Tyler figured if his soulmark hadn’t come in by now, it was never going to. Most marks revealed at least their outline in grade school and gradually shaded in, until the mark was complete and you’d finally met your soulmate. For some people, it took only a few weeks or a couple months; for others, it took years upon years. 

Sometimes Tyler looked at his skin, marked only by tattoo ink and not weird unexplainable, magic soulmark shit, and just felt so _lucky_. 

There was no _other half_ running around out there, wondering about Tyler, about the outline on their wrist. There was no other person somewhere with plans for a life involving Tyler. It was such a goddamn relief.

-

When Tyler was seventeen, on the cusp of the NHL draft and stardom, he and Brownie got drunk on wine coolers and shitty American light beer and made a pact in the basement of Tyler’s billets’ house. Sealed with blood and everything.

“If we’re both still markless when we’re thirty,” Tyler had slurred, one hand wrapped around Brownie’s unmarked wrist and the other wrapped around a damp can of Miller Light, “we should totally get married.”

Brownie had just laughed. He probably thought Tyler was joking.

“You’ll get your mark,” Brownie had reassured him, sipping his own beer leisurely, still allowing Tyler to keep hold of his wrist. “Everyone does.”

“Not everyone,” Tyler said, slipping his hand away from Brownie and sitting back. “I’ve read about the unm—”

“The odds of you going markless are pretty rare, dude,” Brownie cut in. “It’s like a one in a million chance. You’ll be fine. There’s some girl or guy out there for you. You’ve just gotta be patient.”

“I think I would know if there was, and I don’t. I don’t feel that kind of connection to anyone, never have,” Tyler said. “My family’s always gotten their mark young. My mom got hers when she was fourteen. Gram got hers when she was twelve and Grandpa got his when he was fifteen. Me? Nothing.”

“It’s different for everybody, though,” Brownie said.

“Yeah, I know that. But—” 

Brownie cut him short, laying a hand on Tyler’s arm. “Hey, Ty. Okay. I’ll do it if it’s that important to you. If we’re both still markless at thirty, I’ll be your backup marriage. All right?”

Tyler thinned his lips, clamped a hand over Brownie’s on his arm, and squeezed it. “Deal.”

“We gotta seal this in blood or something,” Brownie said, lifting his ass off the couch to dig his Swiss Army knife out of his back pocket. “Make it all official and stuff.”

Tyler rolled his eyes but complied, letting Brownie nick his index finger with the tip of the blade. Brownie did the same and they pressed their fingers together. 

“No take-backsies,” Tyler said when they were finished and he popped his finger in his mouth, making a face at the coppery tang of his blood.

“No take-backsies,” Brownie promised.

-

Brownie’s mark came in a few years after that night, a shapeless thing that resembled a bruise at first. Over the next few months, it resolved itself into something that looked an awful lot like the wings of a bird. A few days later, Brownie literally ran into a girl at Hannaford with the same mark on her wrist. 

“I walked into her leaving the store,” Brownie told Tyler over the phone, his voice staticky, faraway. “I wasn’t paying attention where I was going and I just…walked right into her. Her name’s Erica, she’s so hot and funny and just _perfect_ , Ty. I think you guys’d really hit it off.”

Tyler _hmmm_ ed noncommittally. “So I guess our wedding’s off then?”

Brownie laughed. “Yeah, I guess so. I’ll still stay Facebook married to you, though.”

“Fuck that noise. I want a Facebook divorce.”

“Too bad I didn’t make you sign a Facebook prenup, or I’d be a rich man right about now,” Brownie said, laughing some more. After a few moments’ pause, he said, “You’re cool with this, right? With Erica, and the soulmark?”

“Why wouldn’t I be,” Tyler asked.

“Because, I mean. We made a blood oath,” Brownie said. He sounded the slightest bit squirrelly; the thought made Tyler smirk.

“Dude, I’m fine. Erica’s the one you’re meant to be with. I’m happy for you.”

And he really was. Tyler loved Brownie like a brother, and all he wanted was for the people he loved to be happy. If Erica made him happy, then Tyler was all for it. He sure as hell wasn’t going to be jealous or petty that someone he loved had found their soulmate before he did.

Brownie let out his breath in a relieved _whoosh_. “Okay, cool. You’ll get your mark some day. Maybe we can have a double wedding.” 

“Yeah,” Tyler said. He didn’t bother to correct him this time. 

-

The not-having-a-soulmark thing wasn’t a problem until Tyler realized all of his Bruins teammates had marks—and the soulmates to go with them—and they all expected Tyler to have one too. 

Tyler hadn’t even meant to leave his wristguard off. He took it off to shower and forgot to put it immediately back on once he was done, and Looch noticed Tyler’s wrist. 

“Wait, you don’t have a mark? Seriously?” Looch came over to where Tyler was toweling off.

Tyler grabbed for his wristguard, but it was too late; Looch had already seen. “Dude, not so loud. Okay?”

“Shit, I heard about this happening but I never thought I’d _see_ one,” he said, chuffing out a disbelieving laugh.

Tyler glared at him and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his wrist out of sight. It was pointless now, but he didn’t like Looch staring. “It’s not that rare, asshole.”

“They make up myths and fairytales about this kind of shit, Seggy,” Looch said, rolling his eyes. He picked up Tyler’s wristguard and studied it for a few moments; Tyler wondered if he was going to give it back or keep it for himself.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Tyler made a grab for it. “Give me back my fucking wristguard.”

“Dude, chill the fuck out. I’m not gonna out you to anyone.” Looch shoved the wristguard into Tyler’s chest and backed away. He gave Tyler what he probably thought was a meaningful look. “Just be careful.”

Tyler watched Looch’s retreating back as he left the showers, still clutching onto that plastic guard. Droplets of water plinked against the tile somewhere. Tyler had never felt more alone.

-

Somehow, the team found out. Looch claimed it wasn’t him, that he hadn’t breathed a word of it to anyone, but Tyler had a hard time believing it. 

Apparently the organization was worried now about how it would look to have an unmarked player, though they hadn’t seemed too concerned before. According to one of the PR people, concerned parents were calling up the front office, demanding to know how the team’s fleet of well-paid medical personnel had missed that their top draft pick didn’t have a soulmark. Chiarelli and Julien made vague statements to the press; the organization simply believed Tyler’s mark hadn’t come in yet, not that he was _unmarked_ and, for the record, they still believed it.

There weren’t a lot of theories on why some people had soulmarks and others didn’t. Some people believed the unmarked were being punished by God for transgressions in a past life. Others believed the unmarked were broken, malformed, incapable of loving or being loved. 

Tyler didn’t buy any of that. It was all garbage. He didn’t commit any sins in a past life and he certainly wasn’t broken or malformed. The problem was, there were a lot of people who _did_ believe that and, in fact, some of them played on his team.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.


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